Song-Fic Series!
by Mikaracat
Summary: One shots and character studies as inspired by music! Some fluff, some angst, injuries, Bro-bonding. Unexpected twists in some, strait-forward in others. The first on was written as an exercise in perspective, but kept going just because I love getting into their heads! Stretching through multiple series, mostly 2003/2012. (Or a blend of the two) Rated T because of some fics!
1. Chapter 1

**Behind Blue Eyes**

_Nobody knows what it's like, to be the bad man, to be the sad man, behind blue eyes... nobody knows what it's like, to be hated, to be fated, to telling only lies...but my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be... I have hours only lonely, my love is vengeance, that's never free..._

He sat on a high ledge over looking New York City. The view usually filled him with a sense of rightness, but tonight he only felt anger. Why? Why was is so hard for his brothers to listen to him He wondered? Was it something he'd done? Said? Or was it just past sins and bad decisions coming home to roost? He didn't know.

I wasn't as though they treated him like he didn't belong... but like he didn't have their respect. Hadn't he earned it? In the battles, the fights, those quite moments when they could almost believe they where at peace? He'd never admit that he craved the battles. Longed to show off his skill, his cunning. He'd saved all of their lives more than once. The peaceful times came more frequently now, the times between conflicts longer. Perhaps therein lied the problem...

He would rather be in a life-or-death struggle, plunging heard-long into the fray, not knowing if he'd survive. To put his life on the line, to prove that he _could_. To prove he still had the courage to do so.

Not that his family knew. He sighed without realizing it, knowing that his brothers didn't feel the same. The thought that his life felt flat without that surge of excitement, that thrill that filled his blood and drove him forward. He hid it well. Some of the defeats (and victories) had been horrific, but he'd begun and ended each battle with confidence and pride. He'd thrived on strategy and action. He missed it. He desperately missed it.

Sometimes he wanted to ignore common sense, and find a conflict to take part in, but he didn't. He NEVER looked for a fight, would never invite danger. When his fist clenched, he'd crack it open before he used it. He valued his control above everything else, and held it firm. He'd never let them see it... the rage, the uncertainty...

Leonardo stood, and made his way home... to the "peacefulness" of the sewers.

**This series is a gift to my steadfast readers of 'And Into My Fire, You Shall Fall'! My apologies, but I cannot update today! I'm waiting on the go-ahead from my friend to use a part of her story as a flash-back in mine! In the meantime, I've been digging through things I'd written, and decided to post these.**

**Yes, I have more... **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'll Stand By You**

.

.

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Oh, why you look so sad? Tears are in your eyes, come on and come to me now... Don't be ashamed to cry, let me see you through, 'cause I've seen the dark side too... So, if you're mad, get mad! Don't hold it all inside, come on and talk to me now... Hey! What'da you got to hide? I get angry too... well, I'm a lot like you... When you're standing at the cross-roads. don't know what path to choose, let me come along, 'cause even if you're wrong... I'll stand by you... _

He paced outside Donnie's lab, a bit too quickly. Anger poured from him, anger against the purple dragon punks, against the mutants that worked with them, against the Foot they'd mopped another ally with beforehand... But mainly...

Himself.

He'd let his brother get hurt. How could he? They where suppose to be able to depend on one another, and now... because of him one of his brothers was fighting for his life.

There where a dozen easy reasons:

They had been out-numbered, they where already injured from a rumble with the Foot, neither of them had expected someone in the Purple Dragons to have a _GUN_ for God's sake... not for a little deal like a bunch of stolen computers!

They where'nt reasons, just excuses. It was his fault. If he'd been fast enough,if he'd paid attention, or strong enough, If he hadn't been riding that post-fight high you got after winning and noticed that they'd practically fallen into a Purple Dragon deal going down...

His knee and ankle throbbed badly, but he remained on his feet. "I deserve it," he thought, "It should be ME lying in there bleeding! He took that bullet for ME."

The memories where sharp, more painful than his injuries. That moment... the gleam of chrome under the street-light, the endless echo of the one shot the punk had managed to get off...and the blood... my God, so much blood... first from his brother, then from his attacker.

He'd tied off the wound as best he could, and sent out the emergency signal.

And then he'd turned... and it didn't matter that the blow he'd delivered had knocked the gun out of the punk's hand, it didn't matter that he wasn't armed anymore. He'd seen red... first only blurring his vision, then he was covered in it.

The shell raiser had arrived not long after, and Don had exclaimed over the amount of blood. He'd let him know that it wasn't his. And Donatello hadn't pushed to know whose it was.

Don hung a IV bag in the back of the moving car, and examined the wound...

He cursed himself again, this time for giving Donnie trouble about learning basic first aid. Had he done everything right? Or had his half-assed job killed his brother?

He closed his eyes in self-disgust, only opening them when the door to the lab opened.

"Donnie! Is he going to be ok?!" He asked, knowing that nothing was cirtin, even with his 'Miracle-worker' of a brother.

Don nodded, and pulled him into a tight hug. "Your tying off his leg kept him from bleeding out. He'll be off duty for a few weeks, but he should make a full recovery." He pulled back and smiled.

"Don't worry Mikey... Raph's going to be fine."


	3. Chapter 3

**Through Heaven's Eyes**

_A single thread in a tapestry, though it's color brightly shines, can never see it's purpose in the pattern of the grand design. And the stone that sit's at the very top, of a mountains' mighty face, dose it think it's more important than the ones that form the base? So how can you see what your life is worth, where your values lies? You can never see through the eyes of man... You must look at your life, look at your life through Heaven's eyes..._

**_._**

**_._**

**_._**

It was a warm spring night, the sky drizzled it's damp onto the sleepy city below. He favored cooler weather, or nights when it rained. No one was surprised if a guy in a long coat and hat wanted to go see a movie, or just walk down the sidewalk like a normal person. Not that he did it often... only when he was questioning what he and his brothers did.

So they beat up a few gang members. Stopped a couple robberies. Did it even make a difference? He wondered sometimes. Sometimes it felt as though they'd saved the world... other times...

Other times, it felt like all of the evil and violence was too much, and what they did was like trying to hold back the tide with your bare hands. Save one person, and another 5 get hurt the same night. His brainiack brother had given him those helpful statistics.

How did they figure out how many people got hurt on average, anyhow? Did some weirdo go around asking who got attacked, and on what night?

A scream split the night, and the question of weather or not they made a difference fled his mind. A woman was shoved against the wall in an ally, the shine of a knife barely visible in the dim light. The thug was roughly dressed, and dug through the woman's hand-bag. Her eyes where pale blue... unfocused... _unseeing_! The purse was dropped, and the knife began to nick at her throat, a light line of red smearing against her skin.

A growl emerged from his through, and he leapt towards her attacker. He didn't even draw his weapons. Fist met face in a brief attack. Ninjistu met boxing in a fast take-down of one more of New York's finest criminals. He turned to the woman.

She was younger than he'd assumed, perhaps 20. "Hello? Are you still there?" She asked. Her voice didn't tremble, or sound like she was going into shock. "Who ever you are, thank you."

"No problem. You ok?" He asked softly, and held out his elbow to her seeking hand.

"Wow. Muscular." She smiled, and turned her Mocha-colored face towards him. "A knight in shining armor."

"I wouldn't say that..." He replied. "Heh. I've done some bad stuff... So don't make me out to be a hero or somthin'."

"You think you're the only one?" She walked steadily forward. "You think I was born this way?" He didn't respond, so she continued. "I was a bit of a wild child, teenage alcoholic... Drank a bottle of 'Ever-clear' on a bet. Just a small one, and I'd already had too much... And I blacked out. When I came to, I was in the hospital, and I was blind." To his surprise, she smiled. "And after that, my _real_ life started. It could've killed me, but I survived by the grace of God. All he took from me was my sight. I won't say it's been fun, but other than getting places, I'm doing ok. With a little help for mysterious men..."

"How long ago did... I mean, you don't have to tell me if..." He tried to absorb everything she'd said. "Never Mind. Do you need help getting home?"

"Could you help me get a cab?" She asked quietly. "Then I can get the rest of the way myself." After a pause, she added, "I was 16. It was almost five years ago."

He walked with her back to the main street, and hailed a taxi in classic NYC fashion, and opened the door for her.

"I wish there was some way to reward you for what you did." She spoke softly as she sat down in the car.

"It was nuth'in." He replied. "Not like I saved the world."

"Maybe not." She squeezed his arm. "But you saved _MY_ world. "You saved ME. I know we won't meet again, but my name's Beth. Can I at least know yours?"

He folded her coat into the cab with her, and let go of her arm.

"Raphael. My names Raphael." He nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "And thank YOU." He moved to close the door, but her hand stopped him.

"For what?" Beth asked in curiosity.

"For reminding me why I do what I do." He brought his hand up, and touched her face. "Goodnight... Beth."

The taxi pulled off into the traffic, and all that the passers by saw was a guy in a trench-coat and a fedora, walking down the side walk, like any normal person would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Night Moves**

_Workin' on our night moves... Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues..._

_Workin' on our night moves... And it was summertime... And oh the wonder... We felt the lightning... And we waited on the thunder... Waited on the thunder..._

_I awoke last night to the sound of thunder... How far off I sat and wondered... _

_Ain't it funny how the night moves? When you just don't seem to have as much to lose?... Strange how the night moves... With autumn closing in ..._

The feeling of something running down my face wakes me up. I reach up, and wipe away the droplet of sweat trickling across my cheek. I look at my my watch on the night-stand, and silently curse. It's 1 am, and (not for the first time,) I find myself longing for the icy air-conditioning of my Aunt's apartment. I moved out last month, after I turned 18, ready to go to college and take on the world.

Instead, I'm in a 2-room apartment, sweating my butt off.

My window unit died with a gasping rattle two days ago. The same day this damn heat-wave started. Convenient. My skin is coated in water, as if someone took a basting-brush and painted me with it intentionally. I get up, and walk to the bathroom. A cold bath would be perfect right now, but all I have is a shower. It'll have to do. I turn the water on full force, and bite back a yelp of surprise when it hit's my body. I brace my arms against the narrow walls of the shower, and let my head hang down.

I watch the water swirl down the drain into the sewers. Ah, the sewers. Home of my best friends. Yes, they live down there... four individuals and their father. A family. Dare I say it, _MY_ family. I smile, and turn to let the spray hit my back. The icy water soaks my ginger hair, and scrapes the last traces of sweat from my skin. I shut the water off and grab a towel. The terry-cloth feels corse on my damp skin. I pull on a pair of cotton shorts and a tank-top.

The idea of laying back down on sweaty sheets doesn't appeal to me, so I go into my living room/kitchen. I get a glass from the cabinet, and melting ice from the freezer of my little fridge. I fill the glass with cubes and water, and go over and sit on my sofa. All the windows in my apartment are open, hoping to catch the breeze that normally sings through the city at night. There seems to be little chance of that. The air in the urban canyon where I live sits stagnate. I drain the water and refill it, pressing the cold, damp glass to my forehead. Without warning, the entire street go's dark, and I lose the little relief I was receiving from a cheap electric fan.

Suddenly my phone starts to play it's cheery ring-tone and blink. I grab it off the coffee table and answer. "Hi Leo. What's up?" I bite back a laugh at his surprised stutter. "No, you didn't wake me up. It's not like I can sleep when it's 95 degrees outside and inside too! What's going on?" I ask. Leo explained that the city announced rolling black-outs to help with the drain on the power supply on the 11 o'clock news. My area was on the docket for tonight, did I want to come stay with them? Donnie calls out in the back ground that I can have his room, and he'll sleep on the sofa. Leo tells him to hush. "Staying with you all sound great. I'll grab my stuff and head down."

No, they'll come and get me.

The sewers smell, but it's nothing compared to being down-wind of a dumpster in the dead of summer. The lair is a little damp, but cool and inviting. I know Donatello meant it when he said I could use his room, but the sofa suits me fine. Leo sit's in front of the TV and turns on "Space Hero's" (with the volume low so I can rest) and Raph flops on the other end of the couch with Spike and reads his MMA league magazine. There's a crash from the kitchen, and I sit straight up. Mikey comes out hopping on one foot, having had a pan land on his toes. Donnie looks embarrassed, although I can't figure out why. It's nothing new.

I also can't figure out why I thought I'd get more sleep down here than I would topside. These guys don't know the meaning of the word 'quiet'.

Michelangelo comes into the main room with a steaming hot pizza, and my stomach growls. He offers me some and I find myself sitting on the floor along side Leo, eating pizza, and watching Captain Ryan save the galaxy again, as Raph makes cynical comments and Don steals glances at me over the computer.

I smile, take another piece of spinach-chicken pizza, and a drink of cola. I let out a belch, and blush as they laugh and let out burps of their own.

These four mutant turtles? I call them my brothers.


End file.
